


He's Just A Murderer

by dearly_beloved



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 15:50:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14168277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearly_beloved/pseuds/dearly_beloved
Summary: Frank’s entire body trembled, the site of what lay before him shaking him to the very core.  He felt as if he was in a dream- no, a sick nightmare.





	He's Just A Murderer

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a one-shot I did. Enjoyyy.

Frank’s entire body trembled, the site of what lay before him shaking him to the very core. He felt as if he was in a dream- no, a sick nightmare.

His wife lay in their bed before him, motionless. At first he thought she was only sleeping, but when he called her name she hadn’t responded. He shook her lightly, and she remained cold and still. Frank checked for a pulse, he checked for breath. Nothing. Tears pricked at his eyes.

“No, no…” he muttered, frantic. “She can’t be.” He had just gone to work that day. She had been perfectly fine and cheerful when he left. How could this have happened?

“No!” Frank screamed, collapsing at her side and breaking into sobs. She was the most important person in his life, and suddenly she was taken from him. He thought about how they were trying to have a kid, they had just leased the house. How she’d been by his side since they were only in high school. This couldn’t be happening.

Frank’s hands were shaking as he began to notice the bruises. She didn’t die of sudden illness; after all they were both perfectly healthy and only in their early 30’s. Someone did this to her. With the realization Frank leaned over and vomited all of his stomach’s contents on the floor. Fuck. He was traumatized and in shock.

It slowly dawned on Frank that he might be the one blamed for this. After all, his wife wasn’t planning on seeing anyone else today. Or was she? Frank found himself growing more ill by the second, gagging although his stomach was empty. Why would someone do this to her? She had no enemies. And Frank would never lay a hand on her.

He would never hurt anyone. But the police didn’t believe him. The house was free of signs of forced entry, and as far as they could tell, no one else had been in the house besides Frank. Frank had an alibi- being at work- but apparently she had died just before the time Frank said he had gotten home, which lead the police to believe he was lying about when he’d arrived.

Interrogation after interrogation, and the officers told him he was in denial. Denial about what? He thought bitterly. The love of his life was dead, and they were telling him he magically forgot about killing her. Although he wished not to, Frank remembered it clear as day. He remembered coming home from the studio, in a good mood. And then finding her body. Nothing else at all.

Frank felt himself rotting away in prison. He cried most nights, despite how un-manly it made him look. His life, and his wife’s life, were stolen from him- so he could care less about what the other inmates thought. Mostly they left him alone. Frank grew skinny, hardly having an appetite. Welts formed on his arms where he’d dig into his own skin with his nails, provoked by grief and stress. And yet the thought never left his mind.

The police may not believe him, but he had to know. He had to know what happened. He had to know who killed her.

 

“What if I told you… I’m not the person you think I am?” he said, brushing her hair to the side.

She blushed, smiling fondly at him. “Oh yeah?” she teased, “Well who are you, then?”

Suddenly, he smacked her roughly against the face, she gasped and stumbled backwards. “What the fuck!?” she cried. She was terrified.

“I kind of like that,” he said, taking a step towards her, “I like it when you scream.”

“Get the fuck away from me!” she said, shoving him but he hardly budged.

“Oh darling, come on, I know you want this,” he said, gabbing hold of her wrists as she struggled, “I know you dream of me at night… and you wish you could have me, just once, instead of being stuck with him.”

“No!” she whined, “I love Frank! Please, don’t hurt me, oh god, I’m sorry,”

“Sorry isn’t enough, sweetheart.”

 

 

Frank woke up in a cold sweat. He knew that person… he knew that voice. Why had he dreamt it? But everything came together. He knew it was true.

Gerard.

Frank felt the anger stewing inside of him. Of course. Gerard had always been jealous of Jamia. After all, him and Frank kind of had a thing before Frank fell in love with her. Gerard even blamed her on Frank leaving the band. And apparently it was enough for him to kill her.

Well, even though Frank was being blamed for the murder, Gerard wouldn’t get away with it. Frank knew that as soon as he was free, he must get his revenge. He couldn’t let someone as horrible as Gerard walk free from the horrendous crime he committed.

But Frank couldn’t help but dwell on the fact that Jamia was definitely flirting with him before Gerard lashed out at her. What if the dream wasn’t a truthful story from the past, but rather Frank’s imagination going wild? Either way, Frank knew Gerard had a history of violent episodes. That was part of the reason the band broke up. Gerard was unstable and no one could trust him. He was an alcoholic, hooked on prescription pills and cocaine. Frank tried to rid any thoughts that Jamia would ever even consider cheating on him with Gerard. But although the thought made him clench his teeth, he had to let go of it. She was dead now, and that was never going to change. All that mattered was who killed her.

Frank wracked his brain. It seemed to make sense. Gerard tricking Jamia and using it to get close before murdering her… He couldn’t let go of the disgusting thought.

He almost didn’t want to believe it. It would be easier to assume the killer had an anonymous identity. An unknown, evil criminal Frank had never met. And yet the scene from his dream tormented his brain every waking minute.

Frank decided he had to know for himself. He had to know if his former best friend did it. He wouldn’t rest until he knew. 

So as he went to bed at night, he quietly whispered, “Gerard, if you’re out there and this was really you- by god, you’ll fucking pay for it.” And then he drifted into a troubled sleep.

Frank’s court date was about 6 months from the time he was locked up. At that time, he would be on parole for about a week while he was on trial.

That was when Frank would strike. He knew where Gerard lived, and he had a switchblade knife at home. He knew what he must do.

He would get revenge on the man who took his wife’s life. He still couldn’t get the image out of his mind- her bruised and beaten body. The police telling him she was strangled. She didn’t deserve to be hurt in any way, especially not because of Gerard’s petty grudge on Frank. And Frank would see that Gerard got what he deserved.

And then they could throw him in prison for the rest of his life, for all he cared. He was upset currently, being on trial for a crime he didn’t commit. If the police never found Gerard guilty, so be it. Frank knew Gerard was guilty. And he was going to prison for murder whether he committed the crime or not. All he cared for was that Gerard was properly punished for what he’d done.

 

Frank looked into her brown eyes, melting in them, the way the sun hit them just right. She smiled at him, laughing, taking his hand.

Birds chirped in the spring breeze, the trees and bushes around them all a new, bright green. The sky was blue, and the day was bright. Frank’s eyes ran over her beautiful white dress- her wedding dress, with the thin veil pulled over her face. Hand in hand, they walked down the aisle.

A light breeze stirred her hair. Frank heard cheering and clapping. He looked over the crowd, all of their friends and family gathered in the rows of white chairs. He glimpsed Mikey, and Ray, smiling and applauding. And Gerard, looking irritated and aloof, almost glaring off into the distance.

Suddenly, the skies turned from a peaceful blue to a deafening grey, clouds closing in above them. Thunder exploded in the sky, loud and commanding. Frank saw the panic in Jamia’s eyes, and suddenly she was pulled away from him, by an invisible force.

“Jamia! No!” He cried, running after her, but it felt like he was running in slow motion, hardly making progress. Slowly, in front of his eyes, he watched her disintegrate to pieces, before exploding into crimson blood. The blood soaked him and pooled at his feet.

Frank collapsed into the sticky red substance, sobbing. “Please, please,” He begged, “Why did you have to go? Why did you have to leave?”

He looked around, seeing that the plastic chairs were now empty and strewn randomly across the clearing. He was alone in the wedding gazebo. The winds blew harshly, the leaves fell from the trees until they were barren, and the grass disappeared to dirt.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.” Frank said.

 

 

Frank woke up with a start, drying the tears from his eyes that he had cried in his sleep. His bunkmate was standing above him, giving him a quizzical look. 

“You were yellin’ in your sleep and shit, man,” he said in a thick Jersey accent. “Sayin’ shit like, ‘please’, and ‘don’t leave’. Was fuckin’ weird. So, uhh, I woke ya up.”

He shook his head slightly, but Frank could see the worry even behind the hardened criminal’s eyes.

Frank had never dreamed so vividly. He shook with how clear the symbolism was. He felt nauseous at the memory of watching Jamia’s body crumble before him.

But he felt terrified as he pictured Gerard’s distant glare, sat next to his brother in the stands.

He’d held the same glare on Frank’s actual wedding day.

 

 

6 months went by. The seasons were changed, but Frank was just as determined as he’d realized who murdered Jamia. He was going to kill Gerard.

Now he would be on parole for a short amount of time, and that was when he would strike. Of course, he wasn’t allowed to leave his house, but the police would not notice and get to him in time before he’d committed the crime. Then they could throw him back to prison forever for all he cared, they could even give him the death sentence. Frank knew what he had to do.

Frank just wanted Gerard to suffer the same fate as Jamia had that cursed night.

It wasn’t long before he was pounding on the door of the familiar house, his heart beat pulsing in his eardrums. The devil himself opened the door, with his small teeth and sly smile and upturned nose. 

“Frank!” he said, as if he was greeting a long lost friend. “I thought you were on parole? So sorry about what happened to Jamia.”

He smiled the entire time, never missing a beat. The motherfucker did it, Frank thought. He roughly shoved Gerard inside, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Woah! No need to get angry now, the police will be here soon anyways,” Gerard teased.

“Why did you do it!?” Frank snapped, grabbing his former ‘friend’ by the throat and shoving him against the nearest wall, “Why would you do such a thing!?” He couldn’t help the tears staining his cheeks as he yelled.

“Oh Frank, I’m sorry but you’re too late. It’s not like your anger will bring her back.”

Frank let go of Gerard in shock, as the latter was still smirking. Was Gerard seriously admitting it? That sick fuck. With words unable to express the outrage he felt, Frank struck Gerard roughly in the face.

“Shit,” Gerard muttered, spitting out blood as Frank had hit him square in the mouth. “that fucking hurt, you piece of shit.”

“Why!?” Frank demanded, yelling as his face was flushed with rage. He shoved Gerard again, slamming him against the wall. “Why did you do it, Gerard!? Why!?” And then he broke down sobbing, unable to contain it anymore. Gerard instinctively moved to hug Frank and pet his hair soothingly, and Frank angrily pushed him away.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Frank spat.

“Well, you know, Frank,” Gerard continued in a teasing tone. “She was sick of you anyways. Wanted more fun, she said, so she came to me. Asked me to put her out of her misery... She really hated being married to you, you know?”

“You lying piece of shit,” Frank growled. And that was when he produced the switchblade that had been hidden in his back pocket. For the first time, he saw a spark of fear in Gerard’s eyes. “You killed her, I know you did it. She was the love of my life, Gerard.” Frank took a moment to compose himself as sobs wracked his body. Gerard looked over him quizzically, wondering what Frank would say next but also paralyzed by the presence of the weapon Frank held. Gerard may be taller, but he hated to admit that Frank was certainly stronger. He just hadn’t expected such violence out of the other man…

“It was just some petty fucking school crush,” Frank continued, bitterness in his tone. “What we had. It gives you no fucking right-“

“Frank, stop,” Gerard whined, tearing up a bit himself. He didn’t want Frank to bring that shit up…

“What you did to me, to her, you had no fucking right to do such a thing. We had a few flings, Gerard. But you, the prince of fucking overreacting… you just had to go that far, didn’t you? Killing my fucking wife out of jealousy? You sick fuck.”

“It’s not like that!” Gerard protested, although silent tears now dripped down his face, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand.

Frank laughed then, shaking his head, and it sent chills through Gerard. Suddenly he was using his weight to pin Gerard to the wall again, and pressed the blade of the knife to his throat. 

Quicker than the blink of an eye, and certainly out of instinct, Gerard use all of his strength to push Frank off of him, before bolting for the door. He wasn’t quick enough, though, as he felt a hand catch his ankle and he toppled to the ground. Gerard’s head collided roughly with the hardwood, a loud bang echoing through his living room at the contact. He tried to pull free, but it was useless- Frank had straddled his legs, pinning him to the ground. Gerard felt himself freeze up in fear as a hand was grabbing his hair and yanking his head to the side, and the cold blade of the knife was pressed against his jugular once again.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Gee,” Frank said, and Gerard cringed at the use of the pet name he hadn’t heard in so long. For an instant he almost regretted everything he had done. “You killed Jamia, and I’m gonna fucking kill you. Bury you in the ground, where you belong.”

“Frank, please,” Gerard begged, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes. “I know what I did, and I’m sorry. But… we were meant to be? I didn’t mean to frame you, Frank, I was only trying to help. I know-” Frank watched in dismay as Gerard’s words were cut off by a sob, before he composed himself and continued talking, “I know you’re upset with me but we can make this work! Just run away with me, we can be together a-“

Frank laughed out loud then, shaking Gerard to his very core. He gripped the other’s hair tightly, pulling at it so pain shot through Gerard’s scalp and he winced. “You’re even more delusional than I thought,” Frank said. “You ruined my fucking life. See you in hell.”

“Frank, pl-“ But Gerard was cut off as Frank composed himself and pressed down on the blade, dragging it across Gerard’s throat. It shocked him, how easy it truly was to kill. It was as easy as cutting through butter, and yet he had ended a life. Not ended quite yet… Frank watched in dismay as his former best friend, someone he used to love, chocked on his own blood and sputtered in front of Frank. The blood spurted from his neck and leaked from his mouth, and his hazel eyes were locked with Frank’s as he pressed at his own throat desperately, and gripped Frank’s clothing tightly just for something to hold onto. His eyes beamed with desperation, the human desire for nothing more than to live, looking at Frank as if he were begging, although there was nothing Frank could do now to save him. Frank was thinking he should look away, maybe he should leave, but it was like a car accident. He couldn’t pull his eyes away. Not even as he heard Gerard choke out his last breath, growing still. His eyes were still open, but they faced the ceiling, empty and lifeless. Cold. Dead. 

Frank broke down into tears, unexpectedly sobbing. It was all over, but now he knew he had lost everything. His wife, his old best friend, the life he once had. He knew killing a person wouldn’t be easy, but he hadn’t expected it to be this horrible. Even if it was a person he loathed.

He wondered if Gerard felt the same after killing Jamia. If he felt any fear, pain or even regret at all.

His last words certainly didn’t make it sound like he felt any regret.

All of the sudden, the door was busted down, a full SWAT team outside. They must have knocked, or been yelling, pounding on the door. Frank hadn’t even heard. How long had he been here, kneeling over Gerard’s dead body? A minute? An hour?

“Holy shit,” he heard one of the uniformed men mutter. Frank thought he must really be a scene. Blood stained clothes and tear stained face, kneeled over the lifeless body of his old friend with the weapon in his very hand. He found himself smirking, though. He had nothing left to lose, and nothing left to live for.

“Take me away, boys,” Frank said, dropping the knife and putting his hands up in the air.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it's so bleak. This is loosely based off of the song "The Greatest Story Ever Told" by Ice Nine Kills. I've always loved that song and feel like it tells a compelling story (like the title says, lol), and so I wanted to write something based off of it. Check out the song if you like err, soft post hardcore? I'm bad with genres. It's very good though.
> 
> Please comment any thoughts! I also have made a tumblr called DeearlyBeloved, check it out for some MCR and Frerard stuff, and I also might start posting art I do based on my fics (or other's fics as well) there!


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